


Worth the Wait

by vgersix



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use, Safewords, Spanking, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), delayed gratification, safeword, soft domination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vgersix/pseuds/vgersix
Summary: Crowley is hungry for Aziraphale's attention, but he may have bit off more than he can chew. Aziraphale delivers what he needs, if not exactly what he wants, and Crowley gets all the satisfaction he could have asked for, even if it involves a fair amount of delayed gratification. Lots of soft domination, praise kink, spanking, and snark. Just a fun little naughty romp through a post-canon afternoon in the bookshop.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 226
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	Worth the Wait

It was more a stack of waterlogged, tattered pages than a book. Anyone else might have given it up for a lost cause, pitched it in the bin, and moved on. But as Crowley watched, the angel laid it out like a broken body on an operating table, and began the process of restoration.

This part was particularly fascinating. Aziraphale would use a very sharp knife, carefully slicing into the folded pages, making a notch for each new piece of binding twine. He did it with the serenity of someone who had clearly done it countless times; someone quite comfortable wielding sharp objects. 

Crowley’s mind flitted to an image of Aziraphale, flaming sword in hand, smiting his enemy with the same practiced ease, his strong arms flexing under the effort.

The current state of those arms wasn’t helping to drive Crowley’s mind away from fantasy… Aziraphale had his jacket off and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt while he worked. Crowley honestly wasn’t sure how much more of _that_ he could take. 

“You all right over there, dear?” Aziraphale asked without looking up, the little round frames perched delicately on the tip of his nose. 

“Yeah,” Crowley said, unmoving from where he perched on a backwards-facing chair, chin resting neatly atop his crossed arms.

Aziraphale slotted the twine into place, pressing it firmly against the notch with one smooth swipe of his thumb. “You’re awfully quiet today.”

The demon’s eyes did not waver from Aziraphale’s hands where they now grasped the needle, stitching the new binding closed. This too he did easily, tightening the knot with the swift precision of a master craftsman. 

Crowley breathed out a tiny sigh, wistful. “Angel…”

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the work before him.

“How much longer are you going to be…” Crowley almost trailed off, entranced by the press of thick hands against the stack of pages. “…doing that?” 

Knowing better than to discount this seemingly innocuous question, Aziraphale swiveled in his chair, offering Crowley a raised eyebrow. “A while, I should think,” he said, turning back to his work. “ _War and Peace_ isn’t exactly a quick read. Why?”

Aziraphale’s palms were capable of applying as many pounds of pressure as the best vice grip on the market, surely, and it was a wonder to behold. The way those corded muscles in his forearms flexed through bare skin… it was a sight Crowley was rarely privy to. Surely he couldn’t be expected to just sit here and watch politely. It was all a bit too much.

He leaned hard on the back of the chair he was straddling, trying his best not to whine. “But you’ve already been at it for hours, angel. Aren’t there other things around the shop that uh…” He glanced pointedly at the floor, “might require your attention?”

Aziraphale scoffed. “Oh, I’m sure. But nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow, my dear. It isn’t as if we’re open for business.” 

“Well, one of us might be…” Crowley growled under his breath, hanging over the back of his chair now to a point where the piece of furniture was really doing its utmost not to pivot, hurling its infernal occupant to the floor. 

The angel’s hands paused, twine clutched firmly between deft fingers, and he turned again to look at Crowley, a thoughtful frown spreading over his features. Ah, there. He was getting it. He’d been focused on this bloody book repair all day, but now he was finally looking at Crowley with the dawn of understanding in those bright, glittering eyes. 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale. “I see.” He turned back to his work, tying a knot at the edge of the binding and pulling it tight. “Jealous of my very hobbies now, are you?”

“Angel…” Crowley tipped even further forward in his now perilously leaning chair, and the endearment was most definitely verging on a whimper this time. But he was well past the point of caring. 

“Envious of a book,” Aziraphale mused, laying the cord aside and reaching for a new story of pages to add to the tome he’d already constructed. “What would they say about you downstairs if they only knew? How needy. How pitiful.”

“Don’t tease, angel,” Crowley laid his head over his reaching arms, sighing. “S’not nice.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said in mock surprise. “Is the demon advocating _niceties_ now? My goodness.” He made a _tsk_ -ing noise, shaking his head. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“Aziraphale…” By now his tone had reached full on, one hundred percent, grade-A certified whining. “Don’t make me beg…”

“Well,” Aziraphale took up the needle again, stitching the cord into the binding of the slowly growing book. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what it is you want, demon.”

“S’not fair. _Arms_ …”

“Use your words.”

“Muscles… and all. Just… on display. S’gratuitous, is what it is.” 

It was at that moment that Crowley’s chair gave way, unable to hold back any longer. He crashed to the floor, letting out a little _-oof-_ as he hit the only slightly carpet-padded stone. 

“Fine,” Aziraphale said, tying off the binding and setting the cord aside once more. “If it’s my attention you want, Crowley, you shall have it.”

Crowley sat up, yellow eyes gleaming. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Aziraphale replied without looking up. “Go upstairs and wait for me. I shan’t be long.”

Crowley shot up from the floor, heading for the spiral staircase in the center of the bookshop. 

“And Crowley?” Aziraphale called after him.

He skidded to a halt, grabbing hold of the railing for traction. “Y-yes, angel?”

“Take off all your clothes and lie face down on the bed. You’re not to move until I arrive.”

Crowley thought he felt some organ inside his chest flip over and lay broken on its side, but that couldn’t be right. Internal organs didn’t tend to do that sort of thing, did they? Sounded unhealthy. In any case, his best attempt at a reply came out as more of a strangled noise in the back of his throat. 

Aziraphale turned to catch his gaze, eyebrows rising toward his hairline. “I’m sorry?” He asked in a polite and inquisitive tone that was absolutely a trap. “Did you say something?”

“Ah,” said Crowley. “Y-yes. Yes, _sir_. Angel. Going now.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Aziraphale returned his attention to the half-bound book in front of him while Crowley clamored up the stairs on trembling legs. 

He tripped through the door at the top of the landing that had not been there only a few months past, hurtling down the dark little hallway and stumbling into the bedroom in his eagerness. He reached up to the back of his collar, tugging the soft grey shirt overhead and casting it aside. 

When Aziraphale had first directed his attention to the top of the previously somewhat worthless staircase, to the unassuming interior door that had mysteriously appeared there, Crowley had been wary. To be fair, it was only a few weeks after the Not-Quite-Just-Shy-of-Not-Actually-Fully-Realized-Apocalypse. Crowley had been wary of most things during that time, walking around on a hair trigger, just waiting for some demon or angel to jump out from behind any given phone booth and ambush them on their way to brunch. In those days, he was still flinching at the flambé across the dining room at the Ritz, and gulping down his anxiety even to enter the bookshop, visions of flames dancing in his peripheral vision every time he woke from a nap on the couch in the backroom. 

But Aziraphale was always there, and he’d press a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head, pat his shoulder, and suggest they go see a film, or take a night at the opera, and then everything would be alright for a while, until it wasn’t again. In the dark, when the nightmares came, he would come crashing into wakefulness only to find a heavy, powerful angel on top of him, pinning his body to the mattress and whispering tender encouragements into his ear until Crowley found his control again. 

That was how it had started, really; this particular little fetish. It was the worst of his recurring nightmares by far — Aziraphale, wings charred and blackened, lying at the bottom of the pit, his halo in shattered pieces all around him. Because of Crowley. Because he had dared to love a demon.

Crowley had awakened with a wail, screaming the angel’s name, and found him there, hands pressed against Crowley’s arms, holding him in place with tears in his own eyes — his entire body glowing like a soft candle, wings outstretched as if to shelter them both. “It’s alright, Crowley,” he’d said. “You’re alright. It’s just a nightmare, my dear. It can’t hurt you. No one can hurt you anymore. I’m here.”

He’d reached up on impulse, pulling the angel in for an impassioned kiss. And Aziraphale had not pulled away. And he hadn’t complained that it was too fast. Instead, he’d leaned in, returning the kiss with a soft moan.

Months passed. Then a year. No word came from Heaven or Hell. Crowley had let his hair grow long again, mostly because he knew the angel liked it. It hung down loose to his shoulders, just enough for Aziraphale to really get a good fistful when Crowley needed a firmer hand in bed, which was fairly often, as it turned out. They finally settled into something like a peaceful daily existence. This was part of that existence, and it was a part of it that Crowley had come to enjoy even more than he’d ever imagined he could. 

He unbuttoned his too-tight jeans, shimmying out of them as quickly as possible. He sat on the edge of the bed, peeling them the rest of the way over his ankles and tossing them unceremoniously onto the floor. Socks, pants — He was a little more careful with the thin mesh scarf and steel link chain still clinging to his neck — laying them on the bedside table. When Aziraphale said all clothing off, he wasn’t messing around, so when Crowley looked down and realized he was still wearing his watch, he hastily unbuckled that too, setting it aside. 

Then he let out a satisfied sigh and face-planted directly into the pillow. 

He waited.

Minutes passed.

He bit his lip, worrying it in anticipation. Still no sound of Aziraphale coming up the stairs. No sound at all. He reached out, pulling his watch from the nightstand and checking the time. He’d been lying here for nearly fifteen minutes. 

Alright, he told himself. Just have a little patience. He said he wouldn’t be long. Just… relax.

His hand fidgeted beside him, playing with a stray thread on the coverlet. Sighing in frustration, he checked his watch again. Twenty minutes. Satan’s sake, what was taking him so long? 

The whistle of a tea kettle screaming to a boil met his ears. _No_ , he thought. _Absolutely not. You have got to be kidding._

He rolled off the bed, stomped his way across the room, down the little hallway and out onto the landing at the top of the spiral staircase. 

Aziraphale was in the kitchenette, his back to the foyer, pouring a cup of tea. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Crowley exclaimed. 

Aziraphale set the kettle back on the stovetop. He didn’t turn, raising the teacup to his lips instead, and took a long, relaxed sip. He lowered the cup back to its saucer, and finally turned to face Crowley. 

“Well,” he said, leaning against the edge of the countertop. “I see you’ve accomplished at least _half_ of my commands. You’re naked.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley snapped, “It’s been half an hour! What are you doing?”

“Well, right now I’m having tea,” the angel looked up at him, blinking. He reached into his waistcoat pocket with his free hand, producing his pocket watch. “And according to this,” he squinted at the watch, “it has only been twenty three minutes.”

“Twenty—” Crowley growled. “What does it matter, angel? You said you were coming—”

“I said I shan’t be long,” Aziraphale frowned, his voice growing stern. “We are immortal beings, my dear. I might leave you up there for a month, and that would still qualify.”

Crowley’s face fell. “Wha— You don’t mean—”

“No,” said Aziraphale, turning his attention back to his teacup, swirling the dark red liquid inside before taking another sip. “It wasn’t my intention to keep you waiting _that_ long. But if I really wanted to drive the point home…”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley whined, leaning heavily on the banister. “Come on…”

“You’ve disobeyed me, Crowley,” Aziraphale looked up at him, a feral energy in his eyes. “I was going to offer you a quite pleasant evening, but now I shall have to punish you. According to our specified rules, you’ve left me no choice.”

Crowley felt his dick going hard at the mere mention of punishment, and leaned on the railing, weak in the knees. 

“You will go back to the bed, face down like I told you.” Aziraphale glanced down, sighing heavily. When his eyes returned to Crowley they were full of warning. “And don’t you _dare_ touch yourself, do you understand? I want you to lie there, quite still, until I come upstairs.”

“Angel…” 

He knew exactly how pathetic he sounded. But _fuck_ , he loved this. Aziraphale was ruthless in applying strict discipline, but Crowley could always count on a well-earned reward after. And he knew the angel wasn’t lying. He’d earned this. If he’d just had a little bloody patience… But he never did, and Aziraphale knew that, and so he’d set him up. Cheeky bastard. 

Even after all these centuries, they were still playing their little games with each other — circling and offering treasured gifts in terms that could be safely accepted. The objects of the games in question had only changed a little. These days they tended to involve a bit more nudity and a lot more orgasms. 

Aziraphale was gazing up at him. “Don’t make me ask you again, Crowley.”

That calmly disapproving expression on Aziraphale’s face was almost enough to take Crowley’s legs out from under him, so he turned and went back through the door without another word, leaving it open behind him.

He lay face down on the bed again, trying to ignore the throbbing interest in his cock where it pressed against the blankets. He felt pretty certain that Aziraphale would not appreciate the loophole that humping the bed didn’t technically qualify as touching himself, so instead he twisted his hands into the sheets, bunching them between white-knuckled fingers. 

He resisted the urge to check his watch again as the minutes ticked by. He knew if he looked it would only make matters worse. Instead, he counted to one thousand in his head, twice. That had to be at least… another twenty minutes. This was part of the punishment, Crowley knew. Aziraphale probably wouldn’t have made him wait longer than thirty minutes in the first place, but now he had to prove a point. 

Crowley moaned into the mattress, hating himself for his total lack of self-discipline. 

A soft voice spoke from across the room. “I don’t recall telling you to make any noise.”

Crowley flinched at the sound, but resisted the urge to turn and look. Fuck, Aziraphale must have miracled himself up the stairs and into the doorway — or somehow otherwise arrived quite silently. How long had he been standing there, watching Crowley without a word?

Another minute ticked by before the angel made a move, slowly crossing the room. 

“Now, Crowley,” he said as he walked. “Do you remember what I asked you to do when I first sent you upstairs?”

“Y-yes, angel.”

Aziraphale’s shoes tapped a steady rhythm against the hardwood floor as he spoke. “And what was that?” 

Crowley was suddenly grateful for the loose red hair hanging over his face, obscuring the soft blush he could already feel spreading across his cheeks. Being made to account for his behavior verbally was a frequent point with Aziraphale, but it never ceased to make Crowley shiver. “Mmm…” He hedged. “Was s’posed to wait for you.”

“That’s right,” Aziraphale said, coming to a stop next to the bed. “Turn your head this way, my dear.” 

Well, so much for obscurity, Crowley thought. He turned his cheek to rest on the bed so that he faced Aziraphale. 

He was standing there, still in his shirtsleeves, regarding Crowley calmly. “This may get a bit rough, darling. Safeword?”

“Oh,” Crowley was already lying down, but that didn’t stop his knees from going weak all over again. He frowned, glaring up at Aziraphale briefly. “Belated, I think.”

Aziraphale looked down at him with pursed lips, sighing. “Fine,” he said. “Belated." He tugged on the hem of his waistcoat, straightening it, before falling seamlessly back into their previous conversation. “You were supposed to wait for me. And did you?”

“Y-yes,” Crowley muttered, his cheeks burning hot under the angel’s severe gaze. “I did.”

The rising hand and hard smack on his naked ass cheek came so suddenly he gasped with surprise.

“No,” Aziraphale corrected firmly, but in an even tone of voice. “You did not. Would you like to try again?”

Crowley shook his head, hair flying in his urgency to walk back his incorrect answer. “I’m sorry!” He cried. “I meant… Well, I did, for a while. But then…”

“A while,” Aziraphale scoffed, “Hardly counts, Crowley.”

“I—” Crowley stammered. “Well, you were taking so long, and so I—”

“And so you decided to disobey me,” Aziraphale cut him off mid-excuse.

Crowley flopped his head against the mattress in frustration. “No,” he argued, knowing just how fruitless it would be. He wasn’t going to win. “I didn’t decide… I just—”

“You just did it impulsively, then, without thinking of the consequences? I’m not sure which is worse.”

Crowley sighed, accepting defeat.

“Alright then,” Aziraphale said, crossing his arms in front of him. 

Fuck, those exposed arms were going to be his ultimate demise. All Crowley could think of, looking at them, were all the overpowering things Aziraphale could be doing with them, to Crowley. 

“That is infraction one. What was your next mistake, Crowley? Do you remember?”

“Uh…” Crowley wracked his brain, trying to recall his other crimes. _Shit, shit_ … He was too turned on and distracted to remember much of anything. He’d gone out to the stairs. Found Aziraphale making tea…

The same warm, firm hand that had just delivered a slap now smoothed over the small of Crowley’s back, pressing him reassuringly down against the mattress, grounding him.

“You argued with me, Crowley," Aziraphale said. "Complained about my delay. Remember?” 

The new proximity of his voice and the gentle pressure against Crowley’s spine was enough to make him squirm, fingers clawing deeper into the bedsheets. “Hnn… Yes, angel,” he finally managed to reply.

“Very good. Then you understand everything you’ve done wrong?” He was looking down at Crowley — eyes soft and brow furrowed — radiating all the sympathy and compassion a holy angel could muster, which was quite a lot. “And why you must now be disciplined?”

Crowley nodded, scratching his cheek against the coverlet. “Mhmm…”

“Good,” said Aziraphale. “And since you came back to the bed, you’ve obeyed all my additional commands? No touching yourself?”

“N-no, angel,” Crowley moaned. “I did what you said.”

The hand moved away, and Aziraphale took a step back, leaving Crowley bereft. 

“Then we can get started. Shift up,” Aziraphale said, all tenderness gone from his voice. “I want your ass in the air and your knees touching your elbows.”

Crowley whimpered, his face burning hot. “Aziraphale…”

“Now,” Aziraphale snapped. “Up, on your knees.” 

He raised one arm, readjusting the rolled sleeve and pushing it up nearly past his elbow. He turned away from Crowley, climbing onto the bed behind him. 

“Demon,” he warned. “If you don’t obey me, this will only get worse for you. Do you want me to get out the paddle?”

Crowley gasped, clutching the bed sheets tightly in both fists. He quickly scooted up, walking his knees forward until they pressed against his elbows and hugged the sides of his ribs. He could feel where Aziraphale’s clothed legs brushed against his own naked ones as he moved into position behind him — a reminder that he was laid fully bare before the angel while Aziraphale hadn’t so much as removed his fucking bowtie. 

To further reinforce this point, Aziraphale’s knee pressed against the inside of Crowley’s calf, urging his legs further apart. “That’s right, Crowley,” he said, sounding utterly composed even now. “Up and out. I want to see you open for me.”

Crowley gasped for breath, not daring to argue as his cock hung between slightly spread legs, fully erect and dripping with pre-come. He bit his bottom lip just to avoid crying out, and did as he was told. 

“My goodness,” Aziraphale mused, going still behind him. “What a sight.”

Crowley didn’t dare try to turn and look, but he could feel where Aziraphale’s bent knees pressed into the bed alongside his own legs — the angel was upright, looking down at Crowley, one hand smoothing absent-mindedly over a pert and prominently displayed ass cheek. His thumb dug into Crowley’s flesh, pulling it aside and letting the cool air of the room whisper over his opening.

“Fuck,” Crowley choked, unable to contain his reaction. “Angel!”

The hand moved away again, and Aziraphale let out a resigned sigh. “I will forgive that one outburst. But demon, believe me when I say that if you speak out of turn again, it will only prolong your punishment.”

Crowley buried his face in the mattress, nodding in understanding.

The hand returned to gently massage his flesh. “Now,” Aziraphale said, almost a whisper. “Take this well, and perhaps I’ll be merciful. Are you going to be a good boy for me, Crowley?”

“Hnnggg…” He moaned into the bedding, his cock twitching in answer. “Y-yes, angel. Please. I’ll be good.”

One hand came to rest along the pale flank of Crowley’s thigh, bracing him, while the other raised for the first strike. Aziraphale took in a deep breath. “Here we are, then,” he said, and delivered a hard smack against Crowley’s bare bottom. He pulled back, spanking Crowley again in a new location, the sound of his cupped palm against flesh echoing through the room. 

Blow after blow, Crowley took it without a sound, burrowing his face into the mattress and wincing at the raw, supernatural power behind those perfect angelic hands. For Go— Sata— someone’s sake, he was so fucking strong. Crowley’s entire body pitched forward with each strike, making his cock slap against his stomach in a way that was both arousing and slightly painful. He didn’t even know how long Aziraphale had been spanking him now, but it felt like a small eternity, and his asscheeks stung with the continued abuse. 

The scream he’d been gulping deep down into his throat threatened to break free, and he took in a rasping breath, clutching the sheets and pulling them so hard towards his face he felt sure they’d rend to pieces any second. 

Aziraphale’s hand released Crowley’s thigh, reaching forward and curling a tight fist into his hair, pulling him backward until his spine arched well beyond human capability. The sheets came away from the mattress, still clutched tightly in Crowley’s hands, and he let go of them in surprise, desperate fingers clawing the air for purchase and finding none. 

Well, he hadn’t been ready for that, and the scream escaped his lips as he was caught off guard. “Ah!” He cried, looking up to catch Aziraphale’s eye. The angel regarded him cooly, his teeth bared in a hungry grimace. “Fuck! Angel, I’m sorry!”

But Aziraphale didn’t seem at all concerned by this indiscretion, and simply slammed Crowley’s head back down against the mattress, pinning him there. 

“You’re sorry, you say?” He rasped, rubbing the other hand over Crowley’s tingling ass cheek and squeezing it gently. “Well,” his breathing was labored. “You do seem repentant. Have you learned your lesson already, demon?”

Now that he was apparently allowed to speak again, Crowley couldn’t shut up. He unleashed a litany of curses and apologies into the bedsheets, whimpering and groaning in turns. “Yes, yes, angel, please. Fuck please, _please_ … Shit… I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Aziraphale leaned down, hovering over him, and turned Crowley’s head to deliver a firm and passionate kiss, licking into his mouth like a starving man devouring his favorite dessert. He moaned against pliant lips, gently pulling away with a little suckle of the bruised bottom lip. Crowley hadn’t been able to stop biting it for the past several minutes, and it was swollen now as a result. 

“My heavens,” Aziraphale sighed. “Penitent, indeed. What a very very good boy you are.”

Crowley thought his cheeks might catch fire in response to this eagerly offered praise, and moved to hide his face in Aziraphale’s neck. 

“No, no,” Aziraphale tugged the hair still wound between his fingers, pulling Crowley’s face away. “No hiding. Now, I know how you like to act out. You promise you will continue to behave yourself?”

“Yes, angel…” Crowley whined. “Please.”

“Shhh,” Aziraphale soothed. “A simple yes or no answer will suffice. I don’t want to hear any more whinging.” 

He leaned back again, letting the soft bundle of Crowley’s hair cascade freely from his hand, and moving to grasp him by the hips instead. He raised one hand into the air, bringing it down with a decisive snap of his fingers. Then he carefully widened his stance, urging Crowley’s knees apart again, and pressed miraculously lubricated fingers against his exposed entrance.

Crowley squirmed instinctively, writhing against the grip of Aziraphale’s hand on his hip. He reflected, very briefly, on the fact that Aziraphale could hold his entire lower body in place with that one powerful hand, and moaned. The thick, warm fingers teased at his opening, slicking lubricant over the surface before carefully pressing in. Crowley let out a little cry of pleasure, arching his back and leaning into the intrusion, reveling in the torturously pleasurable sensation. 

“Fucking Hell, angel…”

Aziraphale curved his fingers and probed deeper inside. “Now, Crowley. You know I will not tolerate that sort of foul language.” And even if he couldn’t see it, Crowley could hear the smirk in his voice as he went on to say, “And anyway, are you quite sure ‘fucking Heaven’ wouldn’t be a more appropriate turn of phrase?”

Crowley was never going to get used to Aziraphale just casually dropping the F-bomb in bed, and his cock twitched in response. “No,” he gasped, rubbing his face in the rucked up sheets as he writhed under the delightful assault of a third finger pressing in. “I am definitely the one getting fucked today.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, plunging his fingers the rest of the way in. He pressed his fingertips against that magical place inside Crowley’s body that was almost too good to be real, massaging it with the same relaxed familiarity he applied to all his favorite hobbies.

“Fuck!” Crowley cried out, clawing at the bedding and squirming under Aziraphale’s steady hands as if he’d just been lit on fire. It was a rather apt comparison, he thought.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, utterly unapologetic. “Was that too much?” He bent his fingers, pushing harder against Crowley’s prostate gland and stroking over it slowly. Crowley let out a rather inarticulate noise that sounded more like a bleating animal than a person, twisting under Aziraphale’s grasp. 

“See,” Aziraphale continued, clearly not expecting an actual answer, “I was rather under the impression you were seeking my undivided attention,” he said, leaning in to whisper in Crowley’s ear, tickling the hairs along the nape of his neck. “Careful what you wish for, dear boy.”

His index and middle fingers scissored open then, stretching Crowley painfully and making his spine twist, undulating against the sting. 

“Christ, angel!” He wailed, now physically trying to crawl away. Satan’s sake, it hurt good, but it did hurt. Aziraphale reached out with his free hand, grabbing Crowley by the back of the neck and pinning his face to the bed again. “I said, watch your tongue, fiend,” he warned. 

Crowley twisted under Aziraphale’s grasp so that his cheek pressed into the mattress, the serpent brand on his temple tingling beneath holy touch as the angel’s palm crushed hard against his skull there.

“You watch it,” Crowley hissed, forked tongue darting between sharpened teeth.“Are you gonna fuck me _sss_ sometime today, or what?”

Aziraphale scoffed, sliding his fingers out of Crowley before slamming them back inside again, making him wince and gasp under the force. “After you waited so long for this,” he smiled smugly down at Crowley, little white curls dancing over his forehead, “Now you’re impatient for a quick resolution?” He shook his head, musical laughter tumbling from his throat. “You must be the most ridiculous demon I ever did meet.”

“You spend much time around other demons?” Crowley perked up at that, a surge of jealousy running through him. 

“Not when I can avoid it,” Aziraphale beamed at him. “You’re the only infernal fiend for me, my dear. And do you know why?”

Crowley winced as Aziraphale removed all three fingers again, leaving him empty and trembling, wanting more. “W-why?” He stammered.

“Because,” Aziraphale sighed contentedly, casually grabbing Crowley by one bicep and flipping him onto his back with barely any effort at all. He towered over Crowley, still perched atop bent knees. “You respond so well to positive reinforcement. I begin to think you may be capable of redemption, after all.” 

It was an old game with them, and one that Crowley loved. Fuck, Aziraphale was pulling out all the stops today. 

“I think you genuinely regret when you’ve done wrong,” Aziraphale went on, tugging his waistcoat and shirttails upwards and unbuttoning his trousers just enough to free his cock, stroking it lazily in one hand. “I think you actually want to do better; to obey. To be good.”

“You’re fucking delusional, then,” Crowley gasped, looking up at Aziraphale. He was going to lose any semblance of control he had over himself if the angel didn’t get on with it, and soon. “Just your regular old, irredeemable hellion, me.”

“Is that so?” Aziraphale teased, inching forward until his hands came to rest over Crowley’s rising and falling chest, pressing him gently down against the bed just as he had before, only now from the opposing side. His knees met the backs of Crowley’s thighs as he moved closer, the demon’s legs opening freely to allow him access. “Then pray, do tell me why you seem so eager to please? So quick to beg forgiveness? To submit to my every whim and command?” 

He pressed up close to Crowley, pushing the demon’s knees as far apart as they could go before settling comfortably between his legs. “Tell me why you look fit to come untouched just now.”

Crowley didn’t answer. To his credit, he was a bit distracted by the angel’s thick cock hanging between them, a bead of pre-come at the tip shattering all pretense that Aziraphale remained unbothered. He was almost as far gone as Crowley himself, but he was hiding his own thin grasp on control far better than Crowley ever could. 

He couldn’t help it. He was an open book to the angel — always had been, always would be. He wouldn’t have it any other way. In any case, it made this particular game even more fun. The denial was so blatantly, patently obvious. There could be no misunderstandings between them.

“You’re imagining things, angel.” He looked up at Aziraphale with hooded eyes, shaking his hair back over his shoulders. “I’ll bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being able to tell upstairs you’d tamed a demon. Talk about a real feather in your wing — they’d probably give you another one of those useless medals you like so much.”

These taunting statements were equally laughable in their falsity based on two points — the utter disgust with which Aziraphale viewed commendation medals was only equaled by his lack of any intention to report his Earthly activities to Heaven ever again. It was the sort of assumption any other demon might make about any other angel, but between the two of them, it was an obvious and old joke. 

Nevertheless, it had yet to stop being funny.

Aziraphale shifted, moving a shoulder beneath Crowley’s bent knee, and heaved him upwards in one swift movement. Crowley cried out in surprise, barely holding back the giggles that threatened to burst from his mouth, turning them into a moan instead. Still, he wasn’t sure how believable it was because he was definitely grinning like an idiot.

“You think this is funny, demon?” Aziraphale grunted, grabbing Crowley’s other leg and dropping it over the opposite shoulder, pulling Crowley flush against his own body. “You’ve got a clever joke for everything, it seems. Well,” he gasped, finally sounding more than a little flustered. “Let’s just see what witty little comeback you have for this.”

One hand disappeared beneath Crowley, ostensibly going to his own cock and lining them up. The next thing Crowley knew, Aziraphale was thrusting into him without preamble. 

His head slammed back against the mattress as Aziraphale wasted no further time, working his thrusts into a solid rhythm within seconds. He held Crowley’s thighs against his own body with an ironclad grip just to keep him in place as he pounded relentlessly, ramming into him over and over again.

“Angel!” Crowley crossed his ankles behind Aziraphale’s neck, breezing right past their proposed narrative of him feigning disinterest. “ _Holy fuck_ , angel!”

“Damned right,” Aziraphale smirked as Crowley went to pieces beneath him. “I am the _holiest_ fuck you’re ever going to have.”

Crowley thrashed from one side to the other, making a half-hearted show of trying to get away. He knew exactly how hopeless a venture that was, anyway. Once Aziraphale had him in his clutches, there was no wriggling free. 

“Angel,” Crowley gave one last attempt at rolling away, digging his heel into Aziraphale’s shoulder and pushing off. This had almost no impact at all, only making the angel adjust his grip on Crowley’s thighs slightly before pushing back in. 

“Shit,” he huffed, groaning as Aziraphale quickened his pace. “You can’t just…” He gasped for breath, increasingly aware of the fact that Aziraphale still had not so much as touched him. “Say things like that…”

Was he _going_ to touch him? Fuck, was not being allowed to get off part of his punishment? Crowley’s mind spiraled out of control as Aziraphale increased speed again, clearly near to finishing. 

And then Aziraphale pulled out of him, letting Crowley’s hips slump onto the blankets. 

“Wha—” Crowley looked up at him, dumbfounded. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said in a small voice, and he looked for all the world like he was on the verge of tears. “I— Belated.”

It took a full ten seconds for the word to even register in Crowley’s muddled, lust-soaked brain. “Be—” he squinted up at Aziraphale. “OH! Belated! Fuck!” 

He glanced around, not even sure what he was looking for, and sat up, grabbing a pillow from the edge of the bed. “Okay. Um… Uh…” He looked up at Aziraphale, offering the pillow and feeling intolerably stupid. 

Aziraphale took it without a word, crumpling onto the bed and hugging the pillow to his waist, covering himself with it. 

“I, uh…” Crowley tucked a wayward piece of hair behind his ear, looking down at Aziraphale where he lay on the bed. “Are you okay?”

The angel had a far off look in his eyes, and appeared to be staring at the wall. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” He said in that same small voice. “What you mean to me?”

Crowley didn’t know what to say. As many times as they’d played rough — and this was far from the kinkiest, wildest scenario they’d indulged in so far, Aziraphale had never been the one to halt any proceedings. Crowley himself was loathe to safeword out, though he was getting better about doing it when he absolutely needed to. He was learning not to treat it as a failure of his own resolve, but as an opportunity for Aziraphale to earn his trust by offering support and reassurance rather than any kind of negative reaction.

 _Fucking Hell_ , he thought suddenly. _That’s what you’re supposed to be doing right now. And instead you’re sitting here gaping at him like an idiot._

“Angel,” he said, grabbing a fistful of blankets and pulling them over onto Aziraphale, tucking underneath to join him in a makeshift cocoon of cotton and fleece. “Y-yes. Of course, I know. I mean, I love you to bits — right down to the subatomic level, ya know? Wouldn’t last a day on this planet without you, lovely though it may be.”

“You weren’t expecting that,” Aziraphale said, sounding a little more like himself. “I apologize. Rather surprised myself, to be honest.”

Crowley tucked his head under Aziraphale’s chin, cuddling into the curve of his body and becoming the little spoon. “Aziraphale,” he sighed. “If I don’t get to apologize for following the rules as we’ve laid them out, I can’t see why you should. Same rules apply to both of us.”

Aziraphale let out a little chuckle, wrapping his arms around Crowley and pulling him close. “I suppose that’s true. Well, in any case, I am sorry for… You seemed to be enjoying that.”

“Well,” Crowley shrugged, quirking an eyebrow. “Yeah. _Pounded by the Physical Manifestation of God’s Holy Love Itself_ is my favorite Chuck Tingle novel.”

Aziraphale squinted suspiciously. “I don’t think that’s a thing. I think you just made that up.”

“I did,” Crowley nodded, grinning. “But to be honest, it may very well be a thing. Man’s written so many at this point, I can’t keep track.”

“Right,” Aziraphale sighed. “So, Crowley. The thing is…”

“Uh huh,” Crowley said, arching his neck to look up at him. “What’s the thing?”

“I thought I wanted to be rough with you today. But, it turns out—”

“Soft angel needs a little softness?” Crowley cut in.

Aziraphale’s hands came up, cradling Crowley’s face gently between them. “I don’t ever want you to think, even for a moment, that any of that is true. You are not a fiend in need of redemption, Crowley. You do not deserve to be punished — ever — in any way or for any amount of time. You are utterly worthy and deserving of every ounce of love and praise and tenderness, just as you are.”

Crowley’s mouth hung open, uncertain how to respond. “Uh,” he said finally. “Yeah. I know, angel. I mean…” He winced, shrugging. “I’m working on knowing it. You’re always telling me. But you know how my head is — just gets screwed on backwards sometimes. S’just a kink, angel. I don’t really think—”

Aziraphale curled protectively over him, kissing him tenderly and fervently on the lips. “I know, my dear. And I enjoy it every bit as much as you do. But for some reason, today, I just…”

“It’s fine, angel.”

“Something about that word. Couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Crowley looked up at him, trying to read whatever that stormy darkness was dancing in his eyes. 

Aziraphale blinked, kissed Crowley’s forehead, and reached gently between his legs. “You’ve been exceedingly patient, my dear. Let me.”

His hands were, as always, warm and soft and smooth and perfect in every way. He stroked Crowley right up to the edge, the sweetest and most saccharine of proclamations falling freely from his lips. 

“My dear, my darling, my love,” Aziraphale whispered in his ear as if they might be overheard — and Crowley supposed they might, but for once that thought didn’t frighten him. He dared anyone, above or below to condemn them for something so tender and gently offered. How could they? As if their opinions held weight anymore. He shook his head at the thought that they ever had. They were together, and Aziraphale loved him, and how could anything else in all of creation possibly matter in the face of that simple fact?

He was almost there, ready to tumble over that delicious precipice, when Aziraphale let go of his cock suddenly, shifting out from under Crowley and laying him back on the bed. Crowley made a little noise of complaint, but settled against the blankets again as Aziraphale crawled over to crouch between his legs. 

“Angel,” he sighed. “I thought you were done testing my patience.”

“No test, my dear,” He said, leaning in to lick the inside of Crowley’s thigh. “I just got a bit peckish.”

He took Crowley’s trembling cock fully into his mouth, sucking hard and applying steady pressure to his balls with one hand. Crowley sat up, fingers digging into Aziraphale’s hair as he finally rocketed towards orgasm. 

“Ah, angel! Fucking… _Fuck_!” 

He writhed under Aziraphale’s perfect mouth, regretting not for the first time that these bodies only came equipped with two hands for clutching, scratching, and cradling after. It was barely enough to get his point across — closer, deeper, more. He wanted to become one thing with Aziraphale, cast off these bodies and merge together again, like they’d done the day of their trials in Heaven and Hell. Well, he thought — after all, they weren’t bound to these bodies. Maybe that was something to ponder for another time.

When he finished, he slumped against the mattress, holding Aziraphale loose by the shoulders. The angel happily rested his cheek against Crowley’s thighs, perfectly satisfied to stay there for a moment. 

“You haven’t come yet,” Crowley sighed. “Angel…”

“My turn to be patient, dear,” Aziraphale answered, rising on all fours. “I’m alright.”

“Angel, if you don’t fuck me right this bloody minute—”

“Well,” Aziraphale laughed as Crowley wrapped his legs around him, crossing ankles behind his back again and pulling him close. “Since you asked so nicely…”

He slid carefully into Crowley this time, a slow and gradual thing that both delighted Crowley and also made him growl with frustration — wanting more _now_. He thrust his hips upwards, urging Aziraphale to get on with it, and found whole new possibilities for patience when the angel’s firm hands held his hip bones in place, not allowing Crowley to do any of the work for himself. 

“Tell me what you need, darling,” he whispered in Crowley’s ear. “I withhold nothing.”

“Hng,” Crowley arched his spine, welcoming the grip of one strong hand moving under him to support his back. “Please, fuck me, angel. Harder, faster — need more.”

And in reward for Crowley voicing this need so readily, Aziraphale did. One hand cradling Crowley from below, the other bracing his hip — Aziraphale was hoisting him bodily in the air as he rode him, the demon’s legs draped over his shoulders, backs of his thighs pressed flush against the angel’s belly. He fucked him slow and deep, working them up to a relaxed but inexorable rhythm that only quickened slightly as Aziraphale’s breath hitched. 

Aziraphale shifted almost impossibly upwards and Crowley marveled that the only part of himself still touching the bed was the hard ridge of his shoulders and the back of his head. The rest of him was tangled up and held aloft by the angel, as if Crowley could somehow be raised up, well beyond his earned position in the world, if only in Aziraphale’s arms. 

This little poetic annotation was the last coherent thought in his head right before Aziraphale grunted, “Crowley, I— Ah!” 

Crowley looked up at him, nodding encouragingly, and then he was riding a wave of pleasure as Aziraphale came inside him, all warmth and delicious fullness and ecstasy blocking out anything beyond their two connected bodies. Crowley’s throbbing cock had been leaking onto his belly already, and Aziraphale’s trip over the edge was all it needed to follow suit, twitching urgently again with the beginnings of a second orgasm. The hand that grasped Crowley’s hip let go suddenly, smoothing featherlight touches across his stomach and stroking his cock in time with the movement of their bodies. 

After, they lay in a pile of scattered sheets and pillows, Crowley’s long limbs coiled tightly around Aziraphale’s body as if he might try to escape. 

The soft rumble of Aziraphale’s breath traveled through his chest and into Crowley’s ear where it was pressed up against his ribcage. The absurdity struck him then — the inherently unnecessary nature of angels and demons bothering to do such a thing as breathe, or eat, or fuck. They’d finally gone fully native, partaking in all three without so much as a second thought. 

He laughed then, aware of his own labored breathing slowly returning to normal. You just got used to a thing, didn’t you? Six thousand years of doing your best to fit in. Don’t want to give yourself away — people tend to notice a creature walking around amongst them who doesn’t need to breathe. Eventually it just becomes instinctual to you, too. You stop having to think about it.

“What’s funny?” Aziraphale muttered, his voice thick with sleep. Good, Crowley thought. The angel could do with a nap now and then too, although he’d rarely admit it.

“Breathing,” Crowley said, squeezing his arms and legs around Aziraphale’s body to shift impossibly closer.

Aziraphale let out a little chuckle, curling soft fingers in Crowley’s hair where one hand cupped the back of his head. “Ah, yes.” 

A beat passed, and the room was quiet save for the sounds of their own unnecessary breathing, cars passing outside, and the hum of a city full of humans buzzing all around them. Finally, Crowley closed his eyes and said, “You were always worth the wait, angel.”

Aziraphale stopped breathing then, and lay stock still. 

Crowley dislodged himself, pulling away from Aziraphale’s grasp enough to look up, and met sad, tremulous eyes the color of ocean waves gazing down at him. 

“Aziraphale,” he said. “I’m sorry. I—”

“So were you, my dear,” Aziraphale said, his face breaking into a glowing smile. “Always. I’m only sorry it took so long.”

“Well,” Crowley shrugged, smirking. “Got all the time in the world, now, don’t we?”

Aziraphale leaned in, pressing their heads together, and kissed Crowley softly on the lips. “Yes. All of time. World without end.”

Crowley smiled, catching the reference. “Amen to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! This was just a fun little one-off inspired by [this incredible piece of artwork by gingerhaole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531924/chapters/55720267). I wrote this sometime back in... May? Possibly? And it's just been sitting on my hard drive ever since. Oops! A friend of mine is going through a medical procedure tomorrow and wanted a little -- AHEM -- distraction for when they wake up in hospital, so I thought I'd post this up for them to enjoy. I hope you all enjoy it, too.
> 
> I also hope everyone is still staying safe and healthy during these wild times on planet Earth. I'm still toiling away... not as quickly or productively as I'd like to... on more original projects... but I have to be honest, this pandemic has hit my creativity hard. I'm struggling. Here's hoping things get better soon. Love you all!
> 
> PS: Yes, that was a Frozone reference. Don't @ me lmaoooooo


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